#[as in the fact he is wearing a beige sweater not in like. he is a beige child]

[christiangeistdorfer]

ALAIN PROST talking at his house during the 1984 FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP

[bubsmiraculousau]

These r my first brainstorm pages for the ot5 civillian miraculous designs! Some of their styles I imagine would shift throughout the hypothetical series, esp Adrien and Marinette.

Adrien dresses like a little businessman, preppy in the most direct sense of the word, was taught to dress well to leave a good impression. Gabriel believes that every man should just wear a suit all the time, so Adrien's sweaters and khakis are a compromise. He basically only wears neutrals.

Marinette dresses in mainly pink, but dabbles in other colors as well. I think she would always have some kind of comfortable fabric on, and customizes her clothing with embroidery and things like that. I think she also just likes all the rainbow colors too.

Chloe is a true y2k girlie, Megan Fox's character's outfits from confessions of a teenage drama queen is her vibe. Blue, yellow, brown/beige, b&w, are her main vibe.

Ngl I have no idea what to do with Nino he just dresses like a guy. I think he's the most comfortable in looser clothing. I try to incorporate green into his outfits to tie into the turtle miraculous and him being friends with Adrien. His in-show design literally has like every color in it probably to tie all the characters into each other but it kills me to draw that lol. I'm much better with designing women's clothes...

Alya has tumblr girl style. She loves a black graphic tee and takes black and white pictures of her converse. She basically dresses like the girls I thought were so cool in middle school. Like c'mon she has a blog and Balayage hair, what other style would she be? (Also random fact but when I heard of 'twee' style I thought it just meant all Tumblr girl style not just the peter pan collar stuff lol) I think people call it Tumblr grunge as well? idk

I have a different updated lineup of the civilian classmates and I might make individual posts describing their vibe, background, inspiration, and style because fashion is very important w my characters lol. xx

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Scream Three Times

[Part 1/2] [Part 2/2 (smut)]

Synopsis: You didn't think you had a chance at Billy or Stu's affection, but one night at Stu's Halloween party proves otherwise.

Pairing: MMF Ghostface (Billy Loomis & Stu Macher) x reader

Word count: 2,852

Warnings: None so far

Thanks to the surge of murders in your hometown of Woodsboro and the newly enforced curfew, your mom spared you from your usual duty of accompanying your younger sibling for trick-or-treating around the neighborhood.

Your best friend, Jenna, invited you at the last minute to Stu Macher's Halloween party instead. However, her excitement waned when you stumbled upon an old Ghostface mask in the closet and answered the door wearing it.

"It's in really poor taste," Jenna said, crossing her arms over her nearly exposed chest. She was wearing a skimpy cheerleader outfit, likely to appease her new boyfriend, Anders.

"Well, it isn't like Ghostface wears skirts, fishnet tights, and knee-high boots. I think she's safe from being mistaken for the killer," Anders commented, his dark eyes appraising you. Your response was a scrunched nose and a disdainful glare he couldn't see past your mask.

Anders—the latest object of your best friend's affection—attempted to pull off the dark-haired, leather jacket bad boy look. But you easily saw through it. He was nothing more than a tool.

However, Jenna made you promise to be nice, so you refrained from telling him off for ogling you. You wrapped your dark robe around your cut-off black top sporting cute little glow-in-the-dark ghosts before following Jenna to her boyfriend's truck and climbing into the back seat.

The gathering was taking place at Stu's big farmhouse, and plenty of people were coming, so it did seem like the safest place to be. When you arrived, you hopped out and followed Jenna and Anders up the front porch.

"Well, hey there." Stu's delighted grin greeted you at the door as he held it open. "Great costume."

"Thanks, Stu," you replied, grateful that the mask concealed your flustered expression. He was wearing a velvety red robe over a beige sweater, but it was always his smile that he wore best.

Though you were aware of Stu's relationship with Tatum, you couldn't deny the magnetic draw of his outgoing personality. Still, you weren't the type to go after other girls' men.

Because if you were the type to tread that path, Billy Loomis's bed might have been your destination. Poor Sidney had to have some idea how much of a player her boyfriend was, but she was unaware of the fact Billy had come onto you on more than one occasion. Resolute in avoiding the same bad-boy trap your best friend fell into, you steered clear.

Squeezing past Stu, whose blue eyes shamelessly traced your every move, you navigated into the party. While Jenna and Anders settled on the couch for the scary movie marathon, you made your way to the kitchen to get some beers.

With your back to the room, you heard your name and spun around, coming face to face with Stu.

"I knew that was you under that costume. Damn, you look really cute," he said, his eyes lighting up as he bit his lip.

Ducking your head slightly, a nervous giggle escaped as you thanked him.

"Whassamatter?" Stu leaned in so close that your black mesh-shrouded vision was consumed by him. "You gettin' flustered, girly?"

Shoving him back with a hand still clutching a beer, you playfully muttered, "Quit it, Stu. You have a girlfriend."

"Yeah? And what if I told you I'm planning on leaving her for you?" he said in a low tone, capturing your hand on his chest. His head dipped, and piercing eyes seemingly locked onto yours through the mask.

"Uh-" Your mouth went dry, and your thoughts scattered into the far corners of your mind.

Fuck. A little flirting and you could already feel your body heating up. Stu would leave his girlfriend for you? You hated the fact your thoughts were already consumed with the idea of stealing another girl's man.

But was it really stealing when he suggested it? Attempting to maintain the façade of a good, mostly innocent girl, you grappled with the growing heat in your core.

"There you are!" Tatum's voice cut through your brain fog.

"Thanks," Stu said, taking the beer from your hand and winking before turning to face his girlfriend, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and leading her back toward the living room. He glanced over his shoulder before disappearing from view, blowing a kiss.

You grabbed the last beer in the fridge and reentered the living room, passing two bottles to your best friend on the packed couch and opening one for yourself before settling on the armchair in the only available seat, beside Tatum. There were at least twenty people sitting around the TV, which was playing the movie 'Halloween,' but the moment you felt the back of the chair settle, the only thing you could focus on was the warmth of Stu's body radiating from behind you.

His girlfriend was beside you, but she knew how Stu was. She didn't think anything of it when he set his arm—still holding the beer—around your shoulder. Your breath caught. Your best friend shot you a look, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The tension between you and Stu was building, and you weren't sure how much more you could take.

"You're lucky Sidney couldn't make it," Tatum said from beside you, gesturing to your mask. "You and the others would have scared her shitless. Honestly, it's pretty rude."

You were about to respond when Stu interjected.

"Don't be a bitch, Tatum," he chided. "It's my party, and I'm not gonna enforce a dress code because Sydney is paranoid."

The doorbell rang, and Stu yelled, "I'll get it!" before unceremoniously falling off the back of the chair and popping his head up over the back. "Yo, babe, mind getting us some more beer?" He handed her his empty bottle with a charming smile.

She huffed. "What am I, a beer wench?" Despite her complaint, as Stu headed for the door, she stood up and left for the garage, leaving you alone on the armchair. 

Stu returned shortly, Gail Weathers and Deputy Dewey in tow. You glanced down at your almost empty beer worriedly before Dewey waved it off. "Nah, I'm not gonna bust you guys for having fun."

Gail stood suspiciously by the TV before going back to Dewey, her best reporter smile plastered on her face. Stu approached the armchair and plopped down beside you, grinning. You wanted to reprimand him for the way he cuddled up next to you when his girlfriend could be back any minute, but Stu was known for being touchy-feely, and no one said anything when he wrapped his arm around you with an exaggerated sigh of contentment.

You immersed yourself in the remainder of the movie, nestled against Stu's side, momentarily forgetting Tatum as you tried to quell the racing beat of your heart. As the credits rolled, another knock echoed through the door. Stu gently brushed your hair with his hand before standing and answering it.

"Has anyone seen Tatum?" You heard Dewey ask. You shrugged, still collecting your things. 

Jenna approached you, looking suspicious. "Did you only agree to come cause you think Stu's hot?" 

"What?" You acted like you had no idea what she was talking about, but she saw right through you. 

"You two were so cuddled up I thought you'd climb onto his lap and start making out any second," she said. "He's taken, you know."

"Not for much longer," you said. 

She shoved your arm. "No way?" She whisper-yelled, her eyes growing wide.

You shrugged. "He said he was going to leave his girlfriend for me. They're over with."

"Shit," she muttered, rubbing her arm. "Then… Well, congrats, I guess. I can't judge. Anders left his girlfriend for me."

"Girlfriends, you mean?" You said, your lip curling. Anders had been dating two girls and Jenna before he finally "settled" on her, but not before sleeping with all the girls to 'see if they were compatible'. This fucker was playing games with your best friend, and you never trusted him for a second. 

"Speaking of Anders, where is he?" You asked, trying to change the subject before she could start defending him.

Jenna looked over her shoulder. "I dunno. I'll go find him. Wait for me?" She said, to which you nodded. You kept your mask in hand and approached the front door, spotting Stu talking to Billy. 

"Is Sydney here?" Billy asked Stu, who shook his head. "Fuck. Well, at least she wasn't here to kill the party. She's such a drag nowadays." 

You figured Billy was not the type to dress up for Halloween, and you were correct; he was wearing a plain white shirt with a blue plaid dress shirt.

Billy's eyes slid to you as the rest of the partygoers filtered out around him. "You didn't tell me she was coming," he said to Stu, shoving his chest and stepping through the doorway. 

"Ow! Jesus! I didn't know she was coming, I thought she had to babysit!" Stu griped, holding his chest with an affronted expression. Billy ignored him, coming to a stop in front of you. 

His dark eyes glinted behind strands of black hair as he looked over your costume, grinning when he spotted the mask gripped on your hand. "Not worried that the killer is gonna get ya for stealing his look?" He teased. 

"The killer could be a girl," you countered.

"You think so? Is it you?" He inquired, his smile growing as he leaned closer, enjoying the way you flustered under his gaze. 

You shook your head. "No way. I'd pick different targets if I were to kill people." 

"Yeah? Like who?" Stu asked, peeking over Billy's shoulder. 

You thought for a moment. "I dunno, maybe someone like… Gail Weathers?" You said. "I can't think of someone I'd be happier to see gone than her."

Stu giggled, and Billy nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good one." 

"She was here with Dewey earlier," Stu said offhandedly.

"Dewey was here?" Billy said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yup. Guess they're amping up security." Stu makes an exaggerated shocked face from behind Billy, causing you to laugh. 

"What the fuck!" You heard Jenna yell from the back yard. Billy, Stu, and yourself all whipped to attention, and headed for the back door. Not wanting to reveal yourselves yet, you peeked around the corner, with Billy over your shoulder, and Stu leaning over him. 

What you saw was Jenna with her hands on her hips, looking out onto the porch at her boyfriend with a very drunk girl still hanging off his arm despite his efforts to loose her from his bicep. 

"It's not what you think!" Anders said, finally shoving the girl away. "She came onto me!"

"And you had your hand down her pants to what? Help her find her keys?" Jenna scoffed, then threw the rest of her drink at him. A sopping wet Anders continued to appeal to Jenna, but she wasn't having it. "Just get out of here," she spat, pushing Anders's soaked chest until he gave up and retreated around the side of the house, the drunk girl following him. 

"What's going on here?" Dewey asked from behind you and the boys, making you all jump. 

"Jenna found Anders knuckle-deep in another girl," Billy said with a wry grin. 

"Shit," Dewey said under his breath, leaving the group and heading to Jenna. You broke off from the boys and followed him. 

"You okay, Jenna?" Dewey asked, snapping her attention to him.

"I'm fine," she growled, clearly not. Her eyes flicked to you. "There you are," Jenna said, grabbing your arm. "I don't want to be here another second. Let's go home," she said.

"Wait, before you go, has anyone seen Tatum?" Dewey asked. 

"She was a lil upset when I broke up with her," Stu said, shrugging. "I think she left."

Dewey gave Stu a confused look. "What? You broke up?"

Stu shrugged. "Yeah. I realized I have feelings for someone else. It wasn't her fault, I just didn't want to break her heart," he said, his eyes drifting to you. 

You heard a truck start up and peel off the asphalt.

"Fuck," Jenna groaned. "I don't have a way home, we came here with Anders."

"That's alright. I can take you home," Dewey offered. "You need a ride too?" He asked, turning to you. 

"I can take her home, officer," Stu offered. 

"Uh…" You bit your lip and looked at your best friend, at Stu, then Billy. You didn't want to leave Jenna if she needed you, but Stu had been working you up all night, and now that you knew he was single, you didn't really want to go.  

Mercifully, Jenna caught on. "It's fine. Stu, you take good care of her okay?" She said, to which Stu gave a thumbs up, nodding enthusiastically. 

"Alright, I'll drive you home. You'll call me if Tatum turns up, right?" Dewey asked, still sounding worried. 

"Scouts honor," Stu said, his hand over his heart. 

Dewey and Jenna went to the front, and Billy closed the door behind them before turning to face you. The partygoers were all gone by now, leaving you alone in the house with Billy and Stu. 

"So. Stu, huh?" Billy said, stepping closer to you. 

You nodded a little, unable to meet his eyes. 

"What makes him better than me?" Billy asked, pouting. 

"Everything," Stu interjected, wrapping an arm around your waist with a smug look. 

You laughed. "Well, for one, he broke up with his girlfriend."

"Is that all it takes?" Billy tilted your chin up and captured your gaze. "Consider it done," Billy said, a dark intensity in his eyes. 

"What?" You loosed a nervous laugh, unsure if he was fucking with you. Your eyes flicked to Stu, who's nostrils flared. 

"Hey! You knew I wanted to date her for months, now you're gonna try to swoop in and take her from me? Not gonna happen, bro." Stu pulled you possessively against his side. 

Billy looked back at you. "Why don't we let her decide? After all, you haven't officially asked her out yet anyway, right?"

Stu rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. "Well, no, but I was gonna-" 

"Then she's free to pick between us," Billy said, crossing his arms and waiting expectantly. Stu kept his hold on your waist, but watched you with anticipation. 

You felt a wave of uncertainty wash over you. You'd been drawn to both of them at different points in your life, but you never expected that you'd get a chance with either of them. You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously. 

"Poor baby," Billy said with a pout. "We're putting too much pressure on you, huh? You need help making your decision?" 

He stepped closer while Stu watched him with curiosity, still holding onto you. You shrunk under Billy's scrutiny, warmth pooling in your core. 

"I know," Billy said, taking a step back and clapping his hands. "Whichever of us fucks you better gets to keep you."

"Ooh," Stu said gleefully, squeezing your side. 

Your heart skipped a beat. "W-what?"

Billy chuckled. "Don't act innocent. I can tell you want it."

You blinked rapidly, your eyes flicking to your feet. You did want it, but you were not prepared to be in this situation whatsoever. 

"Don't worry, I've got a way better dick," Stu said proudly. "You'll definitely be mine by the end of the night." 

"Longer doesn't equate better," Billy scoffed. "I'll prove it."

Your face was on fire, and your hands were trembling as you wrung them. You couldn't believe the situation you'd gotten yourself into. 

"Aww, she's nervous," Stu said, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. "It's alright babe, if you don't want to you don't have to."

Billy shrugged. "Don't worry about it, I just thought it'd be fun."

You took a deep breath, finally mustering the courage to speak, though your voice trembled. "It would be fun," you admitted. "But… won't you both think I'm a slut?" 

Stu snorted. "If you plan to date either of us, and we both are cool with it, then you're no more of a slut than anyone who participates in a threesome." 

"Besides," Billy said, "sluts can be hot, especially when they're trustworthy." He paused, his gaze intensifying. "We can trust you, can't we?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. 

Stu beamed. "Fuck yeah," he said, pulling Billy in with his other arm. "You wanna go to my room, or my parents? My parents bed is bigger, but my room has a better vibe-" 

"Your room smells like weed," Billy griped. 

"Duh," Stu said, giving Billy an incredulous look. "That's part of the vibe."

"Your parents room, maybe?" You offered, still feeling some trepidation. 

"Cool, let's go!" Stu said, letting go of you both and turning toward the stairs, tripping up them in his rush to lead the way. Billy sighed and held out his arm, gesturing for you to go before him. When you reached the top of the stairs, Stu had opened the door, and bowed exaggeratingly low. "Ladies first."

[gabessquishytum]

I love your addition to the Dream bratty student idea, so I'm branching on that:

Dream shows up the next day, intentionally late so that way everyone could see him walking in wearing what are very obviously Hob's pants. They're massive on his lanky body, and he liked black only anyway. Hob didn't even think Dream would actually wear them to the class, so he didn't think to maybe wear something else- like anything other than basically the exact same pair of beige trousers but from a different brand bought probably a few years apart. Dream even smiles when he notices.

"Apologies for my tardiness, Professor Gadling." He says, fully knowing it just draws more eyes on him. Hob just tells him to go sit down and doesn't even look up from his ancient laptop currently not working properly. While Hob doesn't see the pants, all the other students do, and they're all trying to contain their laughs and chuckles, whisper the "oh my god look at his pants!" to their friends, etc.

Once the laptop manages to do whatever he wanted it to do, Dream was already sat. So Hob had to try and teach with the lecture hall yapping without knowing why.

Until class ends and everyone leaves, and then he sees the bastard in his trousers walking out.

Of course, he does it the day after that again to actually get Hob's reaction properly. Maybe he'll even try to get another pair of trousers. Or a jumper.

(May be back to write a "How The Endless Stole A Sweater" fic)

(Also can I have 🕷 anon if its not taken??)

Hey, I don't think we have 🕷 anon, so welcome to the club, new friend! Here's the last ask where we talked about bratty student Dream, and the trouser stealing incident.

This is a fantastic addition, I LOVE the idea of Dream showing up to class in Hob’s borrowed/stolen clothing - he's not even a little ashamed of himself! He had to cinch the waist of the trousers in so tight and he nearly came all over them, just thinking about how tiny he is compared with his beloved professor... Hob, due to poor eyesight and the fact that he's trying to actually do his job, doesn't see the trousers until Dream is actively walking out of the lecture theatre, swinging his hips like a dancer, showing off his cute little butt in the boring baggy slacks.

He gets his cute butt spanked in those same slacks less than 24 hours later, bent over the professor's desk with one of Hob’s hands covering his mouth to muffle his screams. The other one of Hob’s (big, wide, manly) hands smacks down on Dream’s arse, and it hurts even through the dense beige fabric. Poor little Dream.

Next lecture, Hob shows up with one of Dream’s gothic velvet chokers clasped around his neck. Of course, it could be a coincidence that the dusty professor has suddenly developed an interest in jewellery... and there's no actual proof that Dream is wearing Hob’s trousers. But as the clothing swaps continue throughout the academic year, it's pretty damned obvious that Professor Gadling belongs to Dream. And vice versa!

[marlynnofmany]

A Worthy Sacrifice

Going on a food run for this spaceship usually didn’t end up in a debate over whose body parts are more expendable. Never, as a matter of fact. Today was the first. And it could have easily been our last.

The trip had such a peaceful start, too. Along with the usual supplies that we paid real money for, Captain Sunlight sent a handful of us to pick up a local delicacy: some plant. I honestly missed the name. I was more interested in the location — inside a vast cave complex with shafts of light filtering in from above, and multiple lakes of poison to make the perfect growing environment. Or maybe they were acid lakes. At any rate, extremely dangerous, and completely at odds with the lovely sun-dappled scenery and brightly colored plantlife.

I stood with some trepidation at the edge of the cave maze, holding an empty bag and wondering if there was maybe an entrance somewhere big enough for a hoverbike. Beside me, the hulking forms of the Frillian twins were similarly hesitant. You can’t punch an acid lake, after all, or lift weights at it.

Down closer to ground level, Mur just looked annoyed. “It’s fine,” he said, flipping a blue-black tentacle forward. “The locals pick these plants daily.” His own bag was on a dinky little hoversled that followed him like a flying puppy, leash and all. The sled also held a couple pairs of pruning shears in case the stems gave us trouble. Mur could have ridden on the sled himself, pushing off the ground like a squid-shaped kid on a snow disk, but that would have been undignified. Strongarms are proud of that tentacle-walking, after all.

And apparently they’re not phased by giant lakes of acid.

“If you say so,” I told him. “Lead the way.”

He did, grumbling. I followed, taking care not to trip over the sled, while Blip and Blop stood tall and brought up the rear.

The entrance tunnel was small, alongside many others, and a few turned out to lead to the same big cavern. My first impression was warmth. I regretted wearing a sweater, thin and utilitarian though it was. I took it off as we walked, tying it around my waist, glad that I at least had my hair tied back in its usual long braid. I didn’t need any extra sweat about my neck today.

Once the sweater was secure, I was free to appreciate the scenery. It really was pretty. The walls were a wash of reds and golds, with multiple types of greenery sprouting from every level surface and a few that weren’t. The lake far below was an evil purple, fading to the innocent blue of tropical seas at the edges. A solid fence lined the cliff edge, which I appreciated.

The wall behind us was awash in climbing vines with dangling blueberry-looking things that sure would be convenient if they were the plants we were here for.

No such luck. Those were on the far side. Lots of them. A vast jungle of treelike things, most of which were bent under the weight of head-sized yellow fruit. As I watched, one particularly spindly trunk lost its biggest fruit to gravity, and sprung upwards to fling the smaller ones away in a comical fashion. I could almost hear the splats against the cave wall.

“Well, they sure look ripe,” I said.

Mur wasn’t interested. “Where’s the— Oh, there it is. We took the wrong door. C’mon.” He slapped away along the path beside that fence, over to where a single large hover platform waited like a ferry.

We were just getting on, with me trying to hide my misgivings and the Frillians doing the same, when a chorus of more slapping tentacle-steps approached at speed.

“Wait!” commanded the large reddish Strongarm in the lead, who was colored much like the cavern walls. She was also shaped more like an octopus than a squid, as was the green one behind her. The beige-gray one had a pointy squid head like Mur.

Mur waited. He’d already figured out the controls for the platform, and he stood there in silence while I clutched the railing with the Frillians, and the newcomers climbed on.

With nods all around, Mur pressed a button to close the gate. Then he removed the lid of the fancy pottery jar big enough for a child to hide inside — I’d assumed somebody had left it behind — and he scooped out a bunch of those blueberry things. As I watched in curiosity, he opened a different lid, this one over a part of the control console that stuck out, baring a dark tunnel like an ominous toilet bowl.

He threw the berries in. The platform’s engine started.

Mur steered us out over the deadly lake, engines humming happily, throwing clusters of berries in every so often. I exchanged looks with the Frillians. The other Strongarms didn’t look impressed.

“Are those fuel berries?” I asked.

“Only for this engine,” Mur said, tapping a sign. “It takes anything organic. Nice of the locals to make sure there’s always a full pot here. There is a note here to refill what we use if possible, and I think we definitely should, but I’m sure that not everyone does.”

The red Strongarm made a flapping noise that I recognized as the equivalent of a snort. Yeah, she probably wouldn’t stick around to do her part.

(And remember that bit about “anything organic”? If you recall how I started this little anecdote, this is where you’ll start to get concerned.)

There was only a moderate level of worry in the air at that point, though. We hadn’t fallen in yet and the rails seemed sturdy, if sparse, and the jungle was approaching at a reasonable pace. The slight breeze even made the temperature pleasant.

When Mur docked the platform headfirst and opened a gate on the other side, I was the first one off among the trees. Picking the yellow fruits turned out to be a great time, especially the way they kept accidentally flying through the air. They were about as heavy as cantaloupes, but with such rubbery outsides that it was like they were made for high-impact comedy. I did my best to pick each tree thoroughly, hanging onto the bent trunk with one hand before letting go. I’d started by taking a single fruit from each tree, but that had not worked.

Blip and Blop had the most efficient strategy: one held a bag and the other shook a tree like they were taking its lunch money. Mur just climbed the lowest trunks and plucked everything he found. One way or another, we filled our bags quickly and met back at the platform.

The strangers were a little slower, but again, we waited politely. Soon enough, we were on the way across the lake that lurked distantly below like malevolent grape jam.

I was just thinking that it had been a while since I’d had a proper PB&J when the trouble happened.

The Strongarms, standing on one side of the platform with their sacks of fruit, produced blasters and demanded ours.

(Yes, Strongarms keep things hidden among their tentacles. Yes, it’s just as gross as it sounds.)

Anyway, they must have taken our politeness and healthy fear of death for the signs of a bunch of pushovers, and wow they were wrong about that.

Blip and Blop swung their sacks of fruit in unison while I dove to one side and Mur took the other. You’d think we did this sort of thing all the time. In reality, there were only so many directions to go in a fenced-in battleground like this.

The would-be bandits were too busy dodging the sacks to aim their blasters properly, though they tried. One shot Blip’s bag of fruit, making her even more angry as yellow globes bounced everywhere. One nearly singed my ear, but didn’t get a second shot when I roundhouse kicked him in the squiddy head.

The other one, the leader, was wrestling Mur, and her shot went right through the center of the berry pot, shattering it and sending the platform’s fuel in every direction.

I mentioned that the railings weren’t exactly close together. And that these looked like blueberries: the little round things. My point is, they rolled. With great talent and speed. Right off the sides and down into that terrifying lake, leaving only a few behind.

“Look what you did!” Mur yelled, wrestling harder.

Blop made an undignified squeak of concern, then tried to find an angle he could help from. He ended up stepping firmly on a red tentacle and pinning the blaster to the floor.

His sister, meanwhile, was slamming an alien cantaloupe against the green guy, whose own weapon was stuck inside a different fruit, making its leisurely way down towards the lake.

The gray dude was out cold, which was a surprise to me. I guess Strongarms are easy to concuss, I thought as I made sure his blaster was safe on our side of the platform. I’d considered throwing it over the side as well, but figured we might want it to keep them in line once they woke up. I sure wasn’t planning on giving it back, though.

Crunch went the third blaster, Ow went the Strongarm holding it, and “Stay down, you arm-dragging limp grub!” went Mur. The red Strongarm stayed down.

So. We won the fight. But we only had a scattered few berries left to fuel the platform, and it had coasted to a stop in what looked to me like the exact stinkin’ center of this terrible, poisonous lake.

Blop looked worried. “Now what?” he asked Mur.

“These?” Blip suggested, holding a yellow fruit out toward the intake.

“No!” Mur shouted, startling everyone. He blocked her path. “Those break the engine. Didn’t you read the sign?”

I glanced at the defeated Strongarms. “I think only you read the sign,” I told him.

“Well, it’s very clear!” he exclaimed, waving dark tentacles like he wanted to tear out hair that he didn’t have. “Only other organics!”

Blip set the fruit down. “What do we have?” she asked, checking her pockets. “I’ve got two shrimp sticks and one of those seednuts that Paint likes.”

We all took stock, coming up with a whole lot of nothing. The unconscious Strongarms woke, and submitted to sitting in the corner with their leader, injured and embarrassed and also not in possession of any spare fuel.

“Let’s at least see how far the berries take us,” Mur said grimly, picking up the nearest.

We gathered all that we could find, and it took us a little way. Pocket snacks and whatnot took us a bit farther. We considered clothes (most were artificial), the fruit-carrying bags (same), and even treating the toilet-looking thing in appropriate but mortifying ways.

As we got increasingly desperate, we were still far from shore.

“Pretty sure this is real leather,” Mur said as he dropped in the leash for his tiny hoversled. “That will take us … not far enough.”

We were sort of close, kind of. Relatively speaking.

“The captain will come looking if we’re gone long enough,” Blop said.

“She doesn’t know which tunnel we took,” Mur reminded him. “Searching could take days.”

“Won’t the locals find us?” Blip asked.

The red Strongarm sneered. “They just finished a work cycle, and it’s a regular holiday. You think we’d try to rob you if they could come in at any moment?”

Both Frillians groaned.

Mur scowled. “Yes, very smart. See where that got you!” Moving slowly for added drama, he picked up a pair of shears from his sled. “Who wants to volunteer something organic?”

There were desperate pleas at that, and stonefaced silence from Mur that I hoped was acting.

“What about them?” the leader said, pointing wildly at the Frillians. “Surely they don’t need all those frills!”

Blip and Blop regarded her with identical shocked expressions. “Yes we do!”

“Well, we need our arms! You think that wouldn’t hurt to cut off?”

The yelling escalated while something very obvious occurred to me. I stepped over to Mur and flopped the braid over my shoulder. “Do you think this would be enough?”

The Strongarms shut up immediately. And they stayed silent while Mur calculated, so silent that I started to wonder.

They answered my question before I could ask it.

“You would volunteer that?” asked the red one quietly.

Ohhh, they think it’s a tentacle covered in hair, I realized. Have they not met a human before? Never mind; let’s see if Mur plays along.

“Yes,” I said solemnly, instead of going “Yeah” like I usually would. “If this is the only way to save all of us, then I will gladly make that sacrifice.” I looked over at Blip and Blop, who were elbowing each other but keeping mum. Good.

Mur ushered me toward the intake with all the grandeur of a high-society attendant. “If you would permit me to do the honors,” he said, “I will be quick.”

So I stood in front of the thing with my back to it so the wide-eyed bandits couldn’t see, told Mur to cut just below the hair tie, and held up my sweater ready to wrap it around my head like a bandage.

Yes, I did feel silly. But the bandits deserved a bit of shame and secondhand anguish. Besides, I’d been wanting to try a short haircut for ages, but never found the right time to chop it all off.

This is definitely the right time, I thought. “Go ahead.”

Mur snipped through the braid with one clean cut — hooray for sharp shears — and I collapsed with an anguished expression and some artful whimpers. Blip helped tie the sweater “bandage,” while Blop shielded us from view and stared down the Strongarms. I didn’t see Mur drop the braid into the intake, since my view was somewhat limited, but I felt the engine kick on with a most welcome hum.

I really hope that was enough, I thought as I lay there with my arms about my head. It’ll suck if we have to snip this down to a buzz cut. That’ll be hard to keep up the act through. And I really don’t want hair THAT short.

But when the engine finally went quiet, it was to a cheer from the Frillians. We were close enough to jump.

Or, more accurately, close enough for Blip to fling Mur across the gap with one of my socks to gather berries in. Mur was a terrible shot when he threw it back, but enough berries reached us that we were able to close the distance.

I pulled the blaster from my waistband and nudged it over the side before I forgot. It was too small for the Frillians to use anyway.

Plus, we didn’t need it. By the sound of her voice, the lead Strongarm had been so humbled by my sacrifice that she might have been considering a career change.

She even offered their collections of fruit, and the other two didn’t object.

Mur accepted graciously. I managed to turn my chuckling into pained noises as strong Frillian arms lifted me. I didn’t uncover my head to look. By the sounds of it, the many fruits were being balanced on Mur’s sled and the shoulders of whichever Frillian wasn’t carrying me.

“Farewell,” Mur said haughtily. “Make better choices in the future.”

We left the cavern to the sound of the ex-bandits promising to do so.

I have no idea if they’ll really go straight, but wouldn’t it be hilarious if they did?

Once we were out of sight, Blip put me down and took her share of the fruit bags. I claimed one too. I felt much lighter without the braid. And the threat of impending death.

I looked at my crewmates cheerfully. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Not without significant backup,” Mur agreed.

“Or more spare headfur!” Blop said.

“I’ve definitely spared enough for one day.” I freed a hand to pull out the hair tie, marveling at how simple a process it was now.

My crewmates all told me I looked incredibly strange with short hair about my face like that.

I told them to wait until I picked a final hairstyle, and I described hair gel to them.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[celsfandomrave]

Ted Lasso Costume Deep Dive

I asked if anyone would be interested if I did a deep dive analysis into the Costume Design of Ted Lasso and people seemed to be very interested!

I work as what is called a Stitcher for opera and theatrical costumes which means I am one of the people who sews the costumes you see people wearing on stage. I am not a costume designer and I have never worked in TV. That said, many of the people I work with have worked in TV and I work with costume designers everyday, so I like to think I have a relatively realistic idea of what choices are intentional and what are not. This is my costume design degree put to use.

Part 1: Ted Lasso

Ted has simultaneously the most and least interesting costume design in the show so let’s talk about it and why I am freaking out about Ted’s orange shirt in Sunflowers.

With only very few exceptions here is a list of colors Ted wears:

White

Beige

Grey

Blue (Navy, Light Medium)

IF Ted wears a suit if will be black with a white shirt and a red tie for special occassions or a black tie for funerals

IF Ted is seen in his sleepwear it will be a pair of grey joggers with either a blue shirt, a black “Joe Arthur” T-shirt, or a Kansas City T-Shirt

IF Ted is seen at training or around the club just before or after he will be wearing some combination of (depending on weather):

White or grey polo shirt

Navy Blue Richmond Track Pants

Nav Blue Richmond Track Jacket

Orange Tinted Aviators

White Richmond Visor

On very rare occassions Ted will wear a RED POLO SHIRT. This is outside of Ted’s normal uniform.

The first time we see this shirt in Season 1 Episode 6, Ted is taking off his wedding ring. This immediately establishes that red polo means something is off in Ted’s world, even if it’s something minor. He might wear this shirt more than we actually see in the show but I would think of this as the shirt he wears if he hasn’t had time to do laundry.

This rule continues

Season 2 Episode 2

Ted is dealing with the fact that Dr. Feldstone is staying and the dinamics at the club are changing.

Season 2 Episode 3

Worn as Led Tasso. As though I needed  help proving this meant something was off.

Season 2 Episode 6

When he wears the shirt early in the episode it seems like there is very little going on with him, everything is fine. So why do we get red shirt Ted? and then he gets a panic attack in the middle of a game. That red shirt was the only indication that something was wrong.

Season 3 Episode 5

The Team are in a losing streak following the game with West Ham. He is also wearing it when he finds out about the bullying situation with Henry.

Other exceptions to the rule that I’m not reading too much into, due to them not being quite as noticeable:

Season 2 Episode 5

Ted wears this brownish yellow sweatshirt under his Navy Richmond jacket. I will let this slide because it is mostly covered by the jacket and it is very cold and snowy during this episode.

Season 3 Episode 1

Ted wears a green sweater dropping off his son at the airport. The green doesn’t stand out as much as the red or orange shirt do. I do think this is sort of an indication that we are getting a Ted in season 3 who branches out a little bit more.

Season 3 Episode 3

Ted wears a maroon sweater with a pocket to Sam’s restaurant. Notably, we have seen this sweater in Navy previously. Ted is branching out in colors but only when it is a style he knows he likes. This is also the same style as the orange shirt.

And now SEASON 3 EPISODE 6 he shows up in ORANGE out of nowhere.

and hopefully you understand why I am freaking out enough to do a breakdown of the whole show.

A few things I’d like to note.

The fact that Ted has a reasonably constrained wardrobe doesn’t really surprise me. The way these sorts of shows tend to work is that they will shop for a character’s closet. Even Keeley repeats, if not whole outfits, pieces of them at times. Ted is not the most fashion forward guy, it makes sense that he has a relatively short number of outfits. That said, Coach beard has much more variated style than Ted.

In the episode, what does the Orange shirt tie Ted to?

To me, the most obvious answer to this is actually Colin. Yes, you could argue that he is being tied to to Sunflower painting, maybe to the tea, maybe to the warm colors or the houseboat but if you are going to argue any of those, Colin is being tied to the same thing. I could definitely see both Ted and Colin being tied to the sunflowers. We are definitely meant to compare Ted to Van Gogh in the museum seen. Both are Inspiring creative people who are trying to get past their “inner demons”. Perhaps we are supposed to see that Colin is also one of these people or perhaps it is meant to connect Ted’s journey with Colin’s sexuality storyline. I genuinely don’t know the answer, but Ted’s costume tells me that something is going on.

Stay tuned for future parts where I will reveal which 2 characters are wearing the same distinctive T-shirt and have a similar freak out about Rebecca breaking all of her clothing rules.

Part 2

[slytherhys]

12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

AO3

1st day of Christmas - Christmas Decorating

New Traditions (Modern Elriel AU)

Living with Elain Archeron, Azriel had found, implied a great many things. For starters, there wasn’t a windowsill that wasn’t peppered with colourful vases, the leaves green and luscious all year around. The kitchen, now covered in all kinds of baking supplies he couldn’t even begin to name, was constantly in such a state of disarray that the simple task of getting a glass of water easily turned into a hefty task. He couldn’t complain – not when every day he was greeted by a different kind of pastry his girlfriend was eagerly trying for the first time.

These, however, were details Azriel had been expecting when he first asked Elain to move in with him. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the sight of the enormous garland covered in berries, orange slices and small pinecones, hanging on their front door. Nor did he expect the tiny, chubby snowman sitting on it, staring at him with unwarranted joy. Azriel scowled.

It was the first day of December.

He opened the door, briefly wondering if Bing Crosby’s voice was crooning from their neighbour’s living room and not theirs. If the sweet voice singing along wasn’t his girlfriend’s – who couldn’t possibly be decorating on the 1st day of December – and belonged to Mrs. Allis instead.

Such wishful thinking was short-lived.

The house, Azriel noticed, smelled distinctively of ginger and cinnamon, and the wooden table in the foyer, usually covered in random knickknacks and their house keys, now sported entirely too many candles and a knitted reindeer wearing a Christmas sweater, welcoming him home with an innocent smile. Azriel settled his keys next to it, feeling oddly disturbed.

Azriel eyed the kitchen with concern. He wouldn’t go in – not yet at least – but he could glimpse Elain’s baking supplies on the counter, as well as a plate filled with red velvet brownies. Azriel swallowed a groan, fighting the urge to eat one – Elain knew how much he loved red velvet, but this felt premeditated. It felt like a bribery. 

He kept walking, following the sound of Elain’s voice as he pointedly ignored the gingerbread house kit on the kitchen table (and the fact it remained unopened). Apprehension coursed through his body as he eyed the mistletoe hanging in the archway leading to the living room. As it was, Azriel usually decorated on the week before Christmas, and that was if Cassian nagged him enough that he’d just give up and put up whatever crappy decorations he had gotten throughout the years (read an old, plastic Christmas tree and a few random Christmas ball that didn’t really look good together). Azriel rarely spent Christmas in his own house, so it had never made much sense to decorate in the first place.

Elain, however, clearly had different plans.

Sure, this was their first Christmas together, but he couldn’t say he had expected this much…dedication on her part.

Azriel stopped in his tracks just as he reached the living room, eyes widening as he took in every single detail. Their once cosy living room was no longer. Their couch, a beige, dull thing by default, was covered in a fuzzy, checkered blanket, white pillows dotting its cushions. The usually empty mantelpiece was now covered by a green garland, dotted with fairy lights. Hanging from it, two stockings – one with an A stitched into it, the other with an E (if he seemed to smile at the sight of it, it was purely a muscle spasm).

He fought the urge to groan, side-eyeing the checkered blanket with horror once again. At least, he thought, there were no knitted animals in the living room.

Needless to say, he wasn’t entirely convinced on the Christmas decorations.

His girlfriend, however, was a sight to behold. He crossed his arms, fighting to not let his amusement show as he watched her. Even in her pyjamas and frowning at the tangled Christmas lights in her hands, Elain was lovely. Her cheeks were slightly pink, lips pursed in concentration as she appeared to fight the knotted mess in front of her (it seemed to Azriel she was losing, but he refrained from commenting on it). There was an old Christmas hat on her head, one Azriel faintly recalled taking home from one of Cassian’s holiday parties. It was entirely too big on her head, but it only made her all the more charming.

She was sitting on the floor, right next to a very tall, very bare Christmas tree. More boxes littered the floor around her, but Elain remained humming, unconcerned and completely unaware of Azriel’s presence in front of her.

Azriel hated to ruin her peace, but the checkered blanket seemed to mock him from the couch. He cleared his throat, face stoic ever as Elain yelped and looked up, eyes widening as she blushed.

“You’re home!” She greeted, standing up as she unceremoniously dropped the Christmas lights on the floor. Azriel raised an eyebrow, watching her as she turned down the volume of the music.

“What are you doing?” He asked, briefly wondering if this was one of those times Nesta had accused him of taking himself too seriously. Whatever that meant.

Elain, however, wasn’t deterred by his seriousness. She smiled prettily. “Decorating.”

Azriel made a show of raising both eyebrows. “It’s the 1st of December.”

“Yes.” She simply said, as if that explained everything.

“It’s the first of December.” He said again, not sure she had heard him correctly the first time.

“I’m aware.” She said, pushing the beanie away from her eyes. She did look adorable. “I’m in a festive mood. I wanted to do some light decorating.”

“Light?” He was vaguely aware he sounded like a crabby old man. Elain was too if the twitch in her lips was any indication. “Isn’t this all too much?” He still asked, eyeing the blanket.

He truly didn’t like that thing.

Elain blinked. Then she blinked again, taking in their living room. The couch, the tree, the mantle garland. Then she frowned. “Are you messing with me?”

Azriel scoffed. “Why would I be messing with you?” He took a step in her direction and Elain eyed him suspiciously. “There’s a gingerbread house in our kitchen.”

“No, there’s a gingerbread house kit in our kitchen.” She explained very slowly. “We’re going to build it together.”

“No, we’re not.” He chuckled, but his smile quickly fell away at her raised eyebrows. “We are?” He asked, frowning even as she walked towards him, a pretty smile on her lips.

“We are.” Elain said, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him down as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “But I made you red velvet brownies as a reward.” She whispered.

Azriel groaned, pressing his head against her neck, making her squeal as his beard tickled her skin. “You can’t distract me with brownies.”

“Are you sure?”

Azriel chuckled, wrapping his arm around her waist as he pushed the Christmas hat away from her eyes. “I am.”

“Well, can I distract you with something else?” She asked, her fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. Azriel hummed, pressing his nose against her neck, taking her in for the first time in hours. He was almost distracted. Almost.

“Can we at least get rid of that blanket?”

Elain frowned, eyeing the couch. “What’s wrong with the blanket?”

Well, its very existence was wrong, in his opinion, and he opened his mouth to say just that.

“Nesta gave it to me.”

He promptly closed his mouth. The blanket was staying, then. Mother’s tits.

He cleared his throat. “And the tree?” He asked instead, trying to swiftly change the subject. Elain eyed with him a cheeky smirk, making it clear she was fully aware she had won the fight before it even begun.

Gods, he loved her.

“Were you going to start decorating it now?”

“Oh, well. No.” Elain turned shy, chuckling nervously. “I actually wanted to decorate it with you.”

“Right.” He nodded. “On the 1st of December?” He asked. Just to be sure. Elain chuckled, playfully pushing him away even as he tightened his hold around her.

She looked at the tree, avoiding his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a new tradition.” She shrugged. “Our own tradition.”

Oh. Oh.

He was an absolute fool.

Azriel looked at her, his heart beating wildly inside his chest. “You did, love?”

She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If you want to, that is.”

It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and show her exactly how much he did.

He kissed her instead, his tongue seeking hers, his hands roaming around her body. He groaned at the taste of her, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. Elain smiled against his lips.

“Is that a yes?” She asked, gasping as his hands found her ass.

“How could I ever say no to you?” And little did she know how much he really meant it.

Which would explain why, merely hours later, Azriel could be found wearing a stupid Christmas hat, ignoring the stupid checkered blanket, and helping Elain put up the last of the ornaments on the too big Christmas tree. And if he had a smile on his face…

Well, that had everything to do with the girl in his arms.

[missmahgenta]

(Fnaf movie) Christmas headcannons because why not

-Mike dislikes celebrating Christmas ever since his brother got kidnapped, and nowadays only celebrates it because of Abby

-That said, he feels bad that he can’t give her what he thinks the ideal Christmas would be. Their parents had sold most of the Christmas decorations by the third celebration without Garret, so the house looks barebones

-Still, he always makes sure to get a tree, even when he can’t afford a nice one (which has been the case for most of holidays where there was only the two of them).

-Abby LOVES making ornaments to put on the tree, and she’s very dedicated at making them. She loves when Mikes tags along, even though they look ugly

-Mike is not the best at cooking nor baking, and somehow even when following a simple cookie recipe word by word, something always goes wrong. It’s kind of amazing really

-After waking up from her coma, Vanessa kinda just starts tagging along the Schmidts at Abby’s insistence, not that Mike would oppose or anything, but he felt that if he was the one inviting her over, she would refuse because things are still a bit awkward between them (girlie just doesn’t understand why they still want to see her after everything, and doesn’t understand why they didn’t leave her to die like she feels she deserves). And her presence is pretty much demanded now during the holidays

-Christmas with her father was always weird. He loved keeping up a good image, and he would go all out, specifically at Freddy’s. He and Vanessa would decorate the entire place from top to bottom, and hell, he would even get his employees some gifts (they were barebones and cheap, yes, but hey, a gift is a gift)

-At their home, things would be more subtle, similar to a beige mom decor, but like, with subtle shades of yellow and purple. Christmas themed songs were not allowed inside that household, but if Vanessa behaved well, he would get some dumb Christmas movies for her to watch, occasionally tagging along just because.

-William would go all out on her gifts tho. Piles of toys and clothes and whatever she showed interest during the year, everything for his little girl

-And he would, at the same pace, destroy one of them every time she mildly displeased him, and he would make sure she was watching.

-After Freddy’s closed, Vanessa would make a point to get the animatronic little gifts. They were still children after all, and all children love receiving gifts

-Nowadays, Vanessa feels extremely weird getting any sort of gift, and just like Mike, wouldn’t celebrate Christmas if it weren’t for Abby. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy celebrating with them tho, in fact, she makes a point to make it as magical and as Christmas-zy as possible

-She made sure to get ugly sweaters with scarfs to combine. Like, absolutely hideous ones. The kind you wouldn’t wear outside of the occasion.

-One thing she can’t do to save her life is cooking, just like Mike. She is not allowed at the stove.

-And since no one knows how to make a good Christmas supper, they just decided to eat at Sparky’s, which is surprisingly empty during that day, save for that one talkative waiter that Abby finds funny

-They make a point of continuing Vanessa’s little tradition to give gifts to the animatronics, and she feels happy that she doesn’t have to do it alone anymore

[lilyginnyblackv2]

Kazuki Adapting to Miri - SPOILERS!

Towards the end of Episode 4, after they go to the cheap store aimed at goods for kids and parents, we see Miri come up to Kazuki with a light green sweater with two pink strips in the center. She then asks, ”Papa, can I wear this tomorrow?” 

She never did this with all the fancy clothes that he bought previously. She was dazzled by them, for sure, but we never saw her actually gravitate towards one of the clothing items he bought from all those brand name stores. 

And this makes sense, because the outfit we saw Miri wearing at the end of the episode:

Is similar in style to the outfit they found her in (the one we see her wearing in the first image, her staple orange sweater, beige shorts, and black leggings outfit). That’s what she likes best.

I’ve seen some people being a bit critical of the message of this episode in regards to Miri and her clothes. And I do get those criticisms that the episode shouldn’t be forcing conformity, but rather acceptance of differences, but I think the thing here is that Miss Anna, and maybe even some of the parents (or even some of the children, if they are bit older than Miri) could pick up on the fact that Miri wasn’t being authentic in those clothes.

Of course, her desire to play with the other kids were 100% authentic, but the image she was portraying wasn’t authentic to her in the slightest. It was Kazuki forcing an image on her (and Rei). This episode was just as much about Miri’s struggle to adjust to daycare, as it was about Kazuki learning to adjust to the world of children and parenthood.

It’s like the whole thing with the hamburg steak. He tries to impress Miri with a hamburg steak that has a more adult tastebuds, but Miri likes one that fits her child tastebuds better. We even see this with the lunch he made for her (like look at that thing, it is MASSIVE, lmao).

In Japan, mothers trying to one-up each other with lunch box art, cooking skills, and etc. often times occurs, which is why something like a general kyuushoku (or school lunch) may be put into place. Since it would eliminate that competitive nature and have actual nutritionists create meals that would be balanced, healthy, and fitting to a child’s taste buds. Kazuki here was just trying to impress and show-off. Like, Miri does like his cooking well enough, but she seems to prefer his baking and sweets more. I bet, if Miri had actually eaten that lunch box of Kazuki’s, most of it would have been stuff she wouldn’t like or maybe not even touch.

(I have 100% seen this happen, since the daycare I worked had students bring bento - lots of times there would be things that really weren’t fitting to a child’s taste buds or stuff like salmon with the BONES left in - for like a four year old - I shit you not, one time a parent did that! I about died when I realized that). 

Kazuki’s lunch box would have likely caused a similar situation or issue.  💀

Anyway, can a child have more adult-like tastebuds and a more adult-based sense of style? Sure! And if Miri was that type of child, then she should have been allowed to express that, but she wasn’t. She isn’t. 

This episode was highlighting the idea of a parent learning to center the child, rather than themself (Kazuki assuming that Miss Anna was also asking him about his name and age in the interview is another example of this) and to adapt to the child, rather than have the child adapt to them - the adult. It was also about Kazuki and Rei learning about practicality and affordability - where to find those things and how to utilize them - to make their parenting experience easier to navigate.

Also, I’m fairly certain that the store they are imitating here is Nishimatsuya:

[lowkeyremi]

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 -> Aizawa Shota x afab!reader

➼ Sum: In short, you're fired from your main job. The worry and stress hits you while you're ugly crying outside of the building of your old workplace. You happen to meet a man who can give you a job. The question is... should you take it?

➼ Chapters: 0, 1

➼ Content Warning: Implied fem reader, reader has fem parts, eventual sexual content, suggestive language, all characters are aged up, eventual relationships, strippers, reader is struggling. (I'll add more as time goes on)

Chapter One - A Fresh Start.

banner by: cafekitsune

Your week was very uneventful, meeting Eraserhead felt like a fever dream. He hadn't called or texted once which caused you to believe maybe he'd been lying about that job offer.

Your laptop was sitting on the coffee table staring back at you. It's tempting to look for a new job just in case Eraser is a sick liar who liked seeing people struggle.

Surely he isn't... right? Your thoughts get cut short when your phone starts to vibrate. Where the hell is your phone? You scramble around for it, tossing your blanket around. Wow, it was wedged in the couch.

"Hello?" It takes about two seconds to realize you didn't check the ID caller, even though it's probably Eraserhead.

"Good afternoon, L/n. How are you?" Eraser's deep voice asks and it gives you goosebumps.

It had been a long time since someone asked how you were feeling, "Tired, I really need to get out and do something."

"Well, the principal would like to have a brief meeting with you." His voice sounds so smooth over the phone.

"About what? If you don't mind me asking." You were already going to agree because of desperation. You just wanted to hear his voice a little longer.

"He hasn't informed me on why, but I'd assume it would be about your credentials and details on moving into one of the apartments our school provides." His answer is logical and makes since.

"Okay, when does he want to have this meeting?" You stare at last night's dinner on your coffee table, laziness has taken over you since you don't have much to do. You tried to take an extra shift at the coffee shop, but they insisted that they didn't need the extra help.

"It might inconvenience you, he said today works for him. Sooner rather than later." There's a moment of silence between you two. You break it, "Yeah today works. I'm not doing anything anyway."

"Alright, I'll text you the details. See you soon, Golden Kitten." You can hear the smirk in his voice.

The line cuts before you can even say some stupid remark to him.

'It’s golden tiger!’ You message him, you wait for a minute and your message is seen. He doesn’t even reply to it, that guy.

Now the most important question is, what to wear? You can’t show up looking like all you’ve done is played videos games day and night. At the same time you don’t want to look too preppy, there’s a chance you’ll be called a show off.

Ding! It’s a message from Eraserhead with all the information you’ll need. According to Eraser, you’ll be stopped by security on your way in. The principal will let you in though.

Motivation starts coursing through your veins. Your place needs to be cleaned and you need to find something to wear. First impressions are important in the work setting. What is Eraser's impression of you?

-------

Your music is very loud in your car, a little distraction is all. "I was a college student for two years before I dropped out," you recite for the seventh time.

Parking wasn't too bad, if you don't count the fact that you almost flipped someone off for taking your parking space. Your loafers reached the ground and you stepped out of the car. In the end you chose a cute beige sweater along with your favorite high waist pants and dark brown loafers.

As mentioned security stopped you, "Excuse me miss, you have an ID?" A tall woman asks her arms crossed around her chest. She's very pretty, her not so cute uniform looks good on her.

"-ello? Miss?" Her head tilts waiting for an answer.

"Oh, uh- I'm waiting for the principal?" All the confidence you gained on the way here is gone. It's easy to tell she doesn't believe you.

Your eyes watch as she grabs her walkie and brings it up to her lips, "Backup on standby. Potential intruder." She gets a few responses.

The silence is so thick and awkward. In your mind it feels like it's been hours when in reality it's only been a few minutes.

"You must be Miss L/n! Come in!" You look around to see where the voice is coming from.

"Down here!" Surely enough there's a talking- creature smiling at you.

"I am so- so sorry, I-"

"Oh don't worry about it, most people don't notice me the first time," he waves you off. The creature who introduces himself as Nezu.. Principal Nezu leads you to his office.

"You know, I was shocked when Eraser said he wanted you as his assistant, not because of your previous job but because I brought in plenty of professionals and he declined all of them. He sure does have interesting taste!" Nezu says his arms waving everywhere while he talks.

You always thought people like that would end up smacking someone by accident.

"I honestly have no clue why he chose me." You say quietly. Nezu pushes his office door open for you and you quickly bow and take a seat.

"He sees potential in you, is why. I know he wouldn't choose just anyone." Nezu smiles, he gets comfortable in his seat and begins unpacking the heavy stuff.

"So you majored in (dream major/current major) and dropped out. Any particular reason?" He studies your face. He can't help but notice the long sigh you release.

"I started hanging out with the wrong people, met this guy who convinced me to drop out and live with him, cheated on me, and left me to figure everything out on my own. One of his friends told me about the club. I was desperate so I decided to get a job there. Along with my coffee shop part time." Talking about it was never pleasant. It was embarrassing even, why the hell did you let some guy who didn't even love you convince you to drop out?

You could have graduated. "Wow, that's a lot." He takes a sip from his tea cup. When did he make a cup of tea?

"Yeah..." He's moving more papers around and quickly scanning what's on them.

"Do you think you're cut out for the job?" He asks it doesn't have any heat behind it, it's just pure curiosity.

"No? I mean I have experience with children, none with teenagers. I was one about seven years ago." Your nails just so happen to be very interesting all of a sudden as you pick at them.

Nezu chuckles, not a normal chuckle... something like maniac. "At least you're honest. That's always a good quality. Do you have a quirk?"

You could lie and say you do. Make up something dumb, but something tells you he already knows the answer.

"I don't, which I'm afraid makes me no use to the students." You worry you'll put them in danger by not having a quirk.

"Thank you for your honesty, but safety won't be an issue! Eraserhead is a very protective teacher and he's got a very helpful quirk. At most you'd need to report to someone about an attack." Those words are quite reassuring, you sigh a little.

Nezu goes on about how surprised he was about Eraser choosing you. Then he moves on to pay and moving into one of the apartments.

He has you look over some paperwork and sends you on your way with Present Mic to tour the school.

"Changed your life for the better?" He asks with enthusiasm about your situation. How the hell does he even know? Isn't your business supposed to be confidential?

"Must be wondering how I know, huh? I was the one who dragged Eraser to the club! It was his thirty-sixth birthday and I figured he should let loose! Didn't think he'd bring back a stray." The blond chuckles, hands also swinging all over the place as he talked.

Eraser doesn't look thirty-six to you. You'd thought maybe he was twenty-nine or early thirties. "You're young aren't you?" Present Mic asks.

"Twenty-six." You reply quietly. You scanned every inch of the school with your eyes. It's a very VERY big school and a lot to take in. Apparently, Mic is only showing you the part of the school you'll be in, but even that's huge.

"How cute! You're adorable and young! No wonder he's taken a liking to you." He exclaims. The hell is that supposed to mean? Without context that sounds creepy.

"I'm not 'cute' or 'adorable' I'm a grown woman." You clarify, he grins and waves you off.

"L/n." You pause upon hearing that mesmerizing deep voice.

"Eraser." You respond mimicking his comment.

"I'm assuming all went well, since you're being dragged around by this idiot." His voice is teasing and a small smirk rests on his face.

"Idiot?! Come on Eraser! We agreed I'm the smart and hot English teacher!" Eraser just shook his head.

"Whoever called you hot was trying to spare your dignity and feelings." Eraserhead responds and motions for you to follow him.

You do, without hesitation actually. "This is my classroom." It was just like some of the other classrooms, plain, blue, and boring.

"No posters or anything?" You ask playing with the apartment key in your pocket.

"Students are here to learn how to be heroes, not to stare at some posters." He walks over to his desk and looks through some papers.

"I just think it would make your class more appealing." You try to reason.

"I've been teaching for a good while, Kitten. I know what I'm doing." He sits down at his desk and sighs looking one of the papers.

"Kitten?!" Present Mic gasps dramatically.

"You don't get it." Is all Eraser offers him.

Present Mic turns to you expecting some kind of explanation.

"I should probably start planning this move." You change the subject.

"And I'm not a kitten!" You groan and he chuckles. You can feel the vibration of his laugh.

"I'll see you out," Mic offers and you accept only because you'd get lost otherwise.

_______

"Hello, yes. I'm calling about breaking my lease." The price for breaking it isn't as bad as you thought it'd be, with this new job you could earn that back in a little while.

Next on your list was to call the movers. It was an awkward conversation because you were nervous to talk to them. Once you got everything settled you ate some leftover food.

The movers are to come around nine a.m. on Sunday which is soon...

You probably shouldn't call him for something so dumb but you call anyway.

"Is everything okay, L/n? You're calling pretty late." You could melt, his sleepy voice is so sexy.. you shouldn't be thinking about him this way.

"I'm sorry to wake you but the movers are coming on Sunday and I need help boxing up my stuff." You explain.

"Right now?" He asks, you can hear shuffling over the phone followed by a little yawn.

"Um... now would be nice. It's Thursday night which means I only have the whole day Friday and Saturday..." he makes a little noise and clicks his tongue.

"Message me your address." Eraser yawns again.

You do as you're told and you hear nothing but static for a few minutes, "I'll be there in thirty."

"Okay, thank you." You sigh in relief, stress would have torn you apart and you'd be panicking if you had to pack all by yourself.

Eraser's pretty cool, you think. You give Present Mic a silent 'thanks' for providing you and Eraser the chance to meet.

➼ AN: Hey guys! I finally got the motivation to finish this chapter, rn I think I'm aiming for 10-12 chapters? Maybe some extra side stuff at the end, but as of now we're getting somewhere. I just had to add Aizawa calling you kitten it's too cute ;)

[amyreads]

I had some questions if that's alright with you.

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

Of course! I love these kinds of questions! Long post warning!

1. What inspires your characters appearance and sense of fashion? All of your characters have such great character designs.

Thank you so much! I worked really hard to get them to fit a vibe that felt perfect for me. I really wanted them to be fashion-forward since a lot of being fame and being visible is being on top of trends. Characters like G have stylists so G is very trendy. The characters are also very expressive not only with their music but their clothes. None of the characters are very shy when it comes to their sense of fashion was is exciting because I love describing outfits. I know some authors find it tedious and 'amateur' which I kinda see why since it's a bit juvenile but I love love love it.

For G, I was inspired by 80s rockstars with long curly hair as well as Cher in the 70s haha I knew I wanted G to have a very prominent detail and it's their long (straight, in their case) black hair. G's tattoos are sort of a mark of their growth as an artist. When they first started, they were essentially 'pure' in the sense that they had no tats and were very young. As they grew older, the tats also grew in number. Touched by fame. SO poetic /j G is very flamboyant and they are very experimental/adventurous with their clothes.

This goes for Victoria. As a model and actress, she's very fashion forward. She prefers dresses over pants and that's kind of her brand haha ! Her red hair and the fact that her stage name ends in Valentine made red her brand, and she takes advantage of that. Branding is very important for her and G, so it helps when you have that *thing* that reminds people of you.

For Seven, the infamous (lol) bandana was something that just came to me. I also wanted Seven to have a "staple" look and I just think it looks cool! Again, it's very reminiscent of the old age rock stars. If Seven were a cartoon character, the outfit they wore at the party (industrial shirt/red and black striped undershirt) would be their "everyday outfit" I think. It really shows their personality; Seven's oversized, messy look reflects them in a way. The fact that it looks deliberately disheveled but Seven worked hours to look good is very telling of who they are. Seven likes to pretend they don't care but we all know that's not the truth!

August has a very calming quality to them. Very grounding. In a story where the ROs are all messes, August's penchant for silence and calm shines. Their colors are a nice brown, green, beige. Very neutral and low-key. They wear a lot of sweaters and cardigans and linen pants because it's comfortable and cozy. Their clothes reflect their personality the most. Kinda reminds me of pajamas in a way!

Orion is pretty self explanatory. While everyone else considers BOTB and everything an outlet for their creativity, Orion sees it for what it is: a job. He dresses professionally to set him apart from the band and everyone else. He's there to work. He's very clean-cut, and very neat so it shines in his clothes.

Seb is well, I wanted Seb to be very unassuming and just normal hahaha. Everyone else dresses really stylishly and I wanted Seb to be really low-key. It's obvious he has no desire to be in the spotlight and that shows with his plain, basic clothing.

2. Would you say there's a difference in genre between what you like to read and what you like to write or is it the same?

Hm, up until recently I used to only read fantasy. I think one of my first if games was Choice of Rebels, among a few others. Writing fantasy is what helped build up my skill. All I've ever wanted to be was a fantasy author until one day...I just started hating it. I hated writing fantasy. I LOVE LOVE reading it, but I hate writing fantasy. I don't know why. I think it's because I fail to convince myself. My suspension of disbelief is very strict when it comes to my own writing, while another writer can convince me of anything in fiction so as long as it makes a lick of sense. It's weird!

I still love fantasy as a reader but I don't think I could ever write it. I do want to try one day though!

I'm more strictly slice-of-life nowadays, aside from Body Double. I think it's easier for me. I love romcoms. I love romance, which hasn't changed. I find it funny that I'm not very romantic in real life but romance is like a baseline requirement for me in stories.

One thing that stays the same is that I love angst. Reading and writing it. I don't like fluff, it makes me cringe. (There will be fluff in Infamous aha). I don't like power fantasies or any of that. Ah, I don't know!

3. And last but not least, what are your favorite genre of IFs to play? Is there a specific genre or type of ro/trope you enjoy?

I'll read anything! I don't have a favorite, I don't think, but I do love urban/modern fantasy. A mixture of slice-of-life and fantasy is the sweet spot for me.

Specific type of RO I like are the emotionally unavailable/closed off ones or the mean ones haha. I do not like easy romances. I like working for it and I think when an RO doesn't want my character it makes it so much more fun and the payoff is so much more satisfying. I need yearning...longing. I need slow burn!

I know there are readers who like playing games where the MC is important loved but I'm not a fan. I like my MC being a regular person that's treated accordingly depending on the character and the story. I don't want my MC to get special treatment or to be powerful just because they're the MC. It has to make sense to me. For me, the ROs should have a greater purpose that goes beyond just romancing the MC.

I get a lot of flak for making the MC an underdog in infamous, but MC is not meant to be the most important person in the room at the start of the story. They need to earn it, which I think feels better.

My favorite RO from any IF game is Nash so <3 I guess that says it all hahah

I hope you liked my answers! This was really fun for me lolol

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 3)

A/N: Sorry for the shorter/weaker chapter this time. I hope to post more this week! Thank you for the support and comments!! They mean so much:) Any feedback is much appreciated!

Title: Make your tea and your toast

Summary: If he played his cards close to his chest, she never picked hers up. Emily's past slowly catches up to her and he realizes just how little he knows about her.

Word count: 2.4k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, SA, abortion, pregnancy and teen pregnancy, and violence.

Read below or on AO3

February, 2007

Quantico, VA

He’s in the office just minutes before her. It’s barely 7:00, both of them running later than usual. He’d lost track of time doing Jack's morning routine while Haley showered, he wondered what her excuse was. He brushes the thought aside knowing that they’re still in well before the others. 

From his desk, he watches as Emily moves about the bullpen, hanging her parka on a peg at the entrance, setting her purse in her desk chair before rifling through it. She’s in a beige sweater, her hair straightened, just barely falling over her shoulders. They drop, allowing her face to hide behind a wall of hair. It glows brown under the fluorescent lights and he can tell that she didn’t find what she was looking for. He catches her biting a fingernail and letting out a small breath between her lips before tidying her workspace. 

He looks on as she combs through a file for one of the consults he’d assigned to her on Friday. From the scowl, he guesses it’s the one from Kansas City. Her fingertips softly slide across and between the papers. Occasionally, she pauses to tuck a lock of loose hair behind her ears. He notes that she doesn’t lift her eyes from the page, even to take a sip of coffee. He savors a smile to himself and gets to work on his own stack. 

At 7:40, she rushes over to the kitchen. Finding the pot empty, she curses Anderson out in whispers and starts a fresh one. She looks stressed, he thinks. He can’t be sure that it’s manifesting any different than typical work-related frustrations.  

Morgan and Reid arrive as the bubbling in the water reservoir loudens. Morgan immediately saunters over towards Emily, who had overfilled the pot causing the first drops of coffee to burn her hand. His attention shifts to Reid. He’d been trying to keep a watchful eye on him since they’d come back from Georgia. Although Gideon and Reid himself had made attempts to assuage his worries, they were largely unsuccessful. 

After setting his bag gently under his desk, he heads back over to the kitchen. Reid dodges the others, closing himself off while pouring a cup of coffee. His eyes drift down to the pair in front of him, deep in conversation.  Morgan is wearing an amused smirk but Prentiss looks like she’s on the verge of confiding in him. 

Things had really changed from her first cases on the team when Morgan would barely look at her with anything but disdain. They’ve become friendly over the past month. Ever since the team had gone to Chicago to reopen and expose all of his old wounds. Prentiss had been the only one of them that he’d permitted to help. Now she’s the one on edge and Morgan’s words seem to do the trick. 

His focus on them is interrupted by JJ in his doorway with her ‘We’ve got a case’ look. He doesn’t know why he bothers to ask. “It isn’t good.”

He nods. “I’ll get the others.”

Between the kitchen and the bullpen, Emily has thawed. Her eyes now beaming as she hangs on to every word falling out of Morgan. He gathers that they’re talking about an author’s catalog, though he’s unsure why that would be the thing to lift her mood. After a minute, he catches himself forgetting why he had walked over to them in the first place. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you're a Vonnegut fan. You just made my day.” He finds it strange that her radiance reminds him of the fact that they have a case, but it does. He approaches them brushing Morgan’s shoulder, interrupting the moment. “Conference room in five minutes, please?”

Teenagers in New York City, suspicions of hate crimes, fuel for political fire. It’s enough to throw them all for a loop. They’re in the air within the hour. 

He’s first on the jet. Not always, but he is today, opting to bring his files rather than work to a stopping point  and leave them behind. It gives him time to evaluate the team before heading into a case. Aside from the expected sensitivities of JJ and Reid, they had remained relatively unfazed. Prentiss had been a little apprehensive about JJ carrying her weapon without an evaluation and worried about Reid coming back to work so soon, but he couldn’t honestly fault her for either thought. 

She walks down the aisle, shooting him a manufactured smile as she passes him. His eyes follow her frame to the coffee cart in the back. He barely notices Morgan hitting the seat across from him. “Is there something going on with Prentiss?” He’s still staring at her, watching as she makes a fourth cup of coffee as if a scrunch of her nose or the slightest flick of her wrist will reveal something to him.     

Derek follows his gaze back to her for a second before chuckling to himself. “She’s fine. It seems that Little Miss Perfect over there had a bad date last weekend.” He lets out an involuntary ‘Hmm’ which encourages Morgan to comment further. “Sounds like he wasn’t a good match for her.” He raises a brow. “Just the wrong guy.” He feels an unfriendly smirk creep across his face. 

 And you would be the right one for her? He has to bite his tongue to keep his thoughts at bay. He nods once, knowing he shouldn’t be dissecting the dating life of one of his agents for this long. 

“Hey, how was your Valentine’s with Haley?”

It’s not that he isn’t grateful to Morgan for shifting the conversation as the others joined them, he was, but Haley was a tricky subject right now. “It was good,” he tells them. And it had been for the most part. They had a lovely dinner, downed a bottle of wine, spent time with their son, and avoided the passive aggressive small talk. “After twenty, I think we have it down to a science.” 

However, his job was still a stressor neither of them wanted to address and Haley had brought up trying again, which made him uneasy. “I remember how difficult it was for you and Sean being so far apart,” she’d said. “I don’t want that for Jack.” He almost feels sick looking at them as they comment on the purity of his relationship. 

Thankfully, their fawning is cut short by Reid behind an open file ready to go.   

She doesn’t make any attempts to hide her disdain when they learn that the mayor wants to bury the case, politicizing the lives and bodies of teenage girls. Favoring points in the polls over justice. He pairs her with Morgan to interview the author of Sandra’s threat, a teenage girl herself. 

By the time they regroup, he knows something is wrong. She’s still there, contributing relevant details for the profile. But she’s hanging in the background, quietly, fingernails digging into her palms. He sneaks glances at her while they wait for Reid and Gideon. 

It’s unfair to profile her which is why he isn’t totally. He can’t help but try, though. 

“I got the coroner's report.” Reid hastily enters the room, handing him the file without looking directly at any of them.

“There you are.” He immediately combs through the documents, reading the findings aloud, "Victim had been beaten so extensively that the cause of death was indeterminate. Post-mortem stab wounds were also discovered."

Morgan winces, “Post-mortem stabs, huh?”

They explain the significance to Detective Ware. “Post-mortem stab wounds almost always indicate sexual homicide.”

Reid chimes in, “This is also a fairly extreme overkill, which is markedly different from the other two girls.”

“So you're saying this was a different killer?” He asks, still unsure of what they’re telling him. 

He shakes his head. “No, we're saying if it was the same killer, the overkill indicates he didn't get what he wanted from Sandra.”

“What he wanted?”

“Sexual offenders kill for sexual release.” Morgan informs the local team. “Now, in this case, there's no sign of sexual assault on his victims. That tells us that he probably fetishises, takes some souvenir from his victims that he uses to get off.”

Ware speaks up again, “Correct me if I'm wrong, but this doesn't sound like the MO of a hate crime?”

“No. We're pretty certain that hate wasn't the primary motive at all.”

When he hears her voice he looks to her holding a hint of surprise. “He has a specific physical type and he tries to cover his tracks.”

The next day, he sends her with Gideon to talk to another family. Hoping her empathetic conversational skills will overpower his abrasiveness and they will be able to gain the family’s trust. They reconvene later to deliver a profile. He doesn’t see her again until after they’ve arrested Wakeland. 

She finds him in the lobby,  one hand gripping a cup of weak hotel coffee the other jotting down case notes as his brow twitches. “Wheels up?”

He looks up at her, a lagging smile on his face. He shakes his head and presses the styrofoam cup into the napkin in front of him. “Morgan asked if we’d stay another night. Detective Ware’s services are tomorrow.”

She doesn’t keep eye contact for long. “Oh, right.” She falls into the chair next to him, her mood off putting like the lights above them. He knows she’s expecting him to ask if she’s alright, but he doesn’t. He just sits there staring at the crease in her nose.

After a few minutes of silence, she looks up from her lap. “It’s funny,” she says. He almost laughs because he can tell that she doesn’t find any of it funny. “When Gideon and I went to talk with that last family, her sister said that she was a ‘good girl,’ that ‘she didn’t deserve this.’” She takes a deep breath. “Like there’s someone out there that does.” She can see him start to form a defensive response and cuts him off before he can offer it. “I know, I know.” She shifts her weight in the chair. “I just think that it reflects so poorly on the world that we think being ‘good’ adds more value to a teenage girl’s life.”

“I guess I’ve never thought of it like that.” He rests his pen across the rim of the cup. “Families, friends, neighbors, they don’t want to see their loved one as anything but good. It’s easier to grieve when the water is less murky. People are either entirely good or bad. When someone purely good dies, the emotions involved are less complex. It’s sad, wrong, unjust.” Prentiss nods along. “It’s rare that that’s the case. Perfect victims are rare, but they’re easier to prosecute.”

“Perfect victims?” She scoffs and it’s clear that she’s not asking for a definition. 

He savors another sip of his coffee. “It’s awful. I know.” Her eyes match the deep color of the drink in his hand. 

“Would you ever go back?” 

Her question catches him off guard, and he considers it for a moment, wanting to give her a genuine answer. “If things were different, maybe. I can’t be sure.” Things aren’t different though. She understands. “I like where I’m at. We have a good thing going, with the unit. It’s good.” 

She laughs into her shoulder, hair tucked behind her ear exposes her dimple. He finds it embarrassing that the slightest sign of joy in her features can pull a grin from him effortlessly. He thinks it’s funny that Haley had sized Prentiss up with a twinge of jealousy the moment she met her. “At least she’s far from being your type, or we’d have a real problem.” she had told him over a glass of wine once he’d forgotten all about it, half-jokingly. 

“You know, I told Morgan the other day that I was a nerd, but I cannot imagine going to law school just for the hell of it.” 

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, it wasn’t entirely my decision.”

She nods once with her lips pressing together. “Right. It’s in your DNA. I’m familiar.”

He feels the last remains of dread for returning to Quantico wash down his throat. “Did you ever consider going into politics?”

“I’m considering dinner… Is there a plan?” 

“Wow. You don’t hesitate to change the topic when you don’t like it.”

She smirks, “It’s in my DNA.”

He starts to tidy up his area, closing the open file and downing the last of his coffee. “Well, Morgan and JJ dragged Reid out of here about an hour ago. We can go join them if you’d like. Or we can grab something nearby?”

“Oh. I should probably turn in.” She abruptly stands up, grabbing his trash from the table and stuffing it into the empty cup. He glances at his watch. 8:20. 

“Are you sure?” It hadn’t occurred to him that she’d disappeared during breakfast and they’d skipped lunch. “Prentiss, you haven’t eaten today and I know you’re not going to bed right now. There’s a bar around the corner?” She’s trying to convince herself to feel okay declining his offer. “Drinks? I’m buying.” 

“Well, when you put it like that.” He smiles up at her and they head out the front doors. Her skin pales against the cold, glowing even more in the neon city lights. He pays for their beers, and somehow manages to sell her on a slice of pizza, carrying it back over to their table. 

Her eyes go wide as she looks from the paper plates to him. “Hotch, this thing is larger than my face.” 

“I think that’s the point.”

They end up taking a cab deeper into the city. Crossing paths with JJ and Reid, clad in “I Heart NY” gear. They stop at another bar and walk around Times Square until they ultimately end up back at their individual rooms. Neither of them say much that they’ll remember the next day. Small talk and stories about their previous trips to the city, their words blow away with the crisp air.

[husbandhannie]

the blue

pairing: woozi x reader

word count: 760

genre: fluff

warnings: none

a/n: i like my scarf, but it was a pain choosing it.

taglist: @leejungchans @junhui-recs @itsveronicaxxx.

“i’m sorry i’m taking so long”

jihoon looks up at your words, averting his eyes from the orange cap he had been eyeing for a few moments. 

jihoon doesn’t like shopping. neither do you, really – but you’ve been forced to undertake this ordeal because of the state of your winter clothes (and maybe because your mother seemed genuinely horrified at their not-so-great condition). when you told your boyfriend you were planning on going shopping to replenish clothes for the coming winter, you didn’t expect him to offer to come along. you had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to, but that only made him more insistent. i know i don’t have to, he had said, i want to. 

that shut down any efforts on your part to stop him from going on an excursion he might not enjoy. jihoon doesn’t explicitly express his feelings towards you often (he’s not much different from you in that regard), so it always catches you off-guard when he’s direct – a fact you have a suspicion he knows.

that brings you to the present; jihoon waiting patiently in the accessories isle of the rather gigantic clothing store while you try to pick out a scarf, having managed to narrow it down to a beige-patterned one and a dark blue one, both with similar material and prices. you’ve tried each of them about four times now, and even you’re getting impatient with yourself. 

jihoon, on the other hand, has said nothing about your indecisiveness, patiently responding to the list of pros-and-cons you had drawn for each scarf. he’s been almost saintly patient today, only showing any frustration when you tried carrying the shopping basket. i don’t have much to say about sweaters, he had said, pulling the basket from your hands, the least i can do is carry the clothes.

“don’t worry about it”, he responds, giving you a gentle smile, “i know you think about these things, it’s okay. i don’t mind”. 

oh, how you wish you could kiss this man. right here, right now.

“i do like to think about it, but”, you pause, picking up the beige scarf, “i’m tired, and i can’t think anymore. i’ll just take this, it goes with everything i have”.

“are you sure?”, he frowns, holding out the basket so you can drop the scarf in, “you like the other color better”.

“i do”, you nudge him along to the direction of billing counters, “but this one is more versatile. and i’m hungry”, you smile at his chuckle, “so this will do”.

[...]

“only i would buy a scarf and forget to wear it the very next day”, you snort, snuggling into your jacket in the hopes that it covers your neck. it doesn’t.

after coming home from the shopping trip, you had discarded the untouched bag in a corner of the room and started working on your assignment, only stopping to order dinner. you had forgotten about the new clothes until a few minutes ago, when you met jihoon outside his studio for a walk in the slightly chilly november night. the slight pain in your ears reminded you that you had also forgotten to buy a cap on the trip. 

“yeah, about that”, jihoon pauses in his step, and you turn around to see him rummage through his bag, “here”.

he pulls out a blue fabric, shaking it open from its folded state. it’s the scarf from yesterday, you realize, the one you didn’t end up buying. jihoon steps forward and places it gently on your shoulder, moving it so that it won’t fall when he lets go. your hands instinctively clutch the fabric when a gust of wind blows, and you tilt your head into its warmth.

“you’re supposed to wear it, you know”, he says, unzipped bag still in his hand, “you’ll get sick”.

“when did you get this?”, you ask, already tying it around your neck.

“went back for it this morning”, he answers casually, and you wonder if the red on his ears is due to the cold, “you really liked it, so i thought – “

he pauses, and your heart almost beats out of your chest – the chest safe and warm under the scarf.

“thank you”, you murmur shyly, before pulling him in for a kiss, only pulling away when the wind on your ear makes you shiver. 

“wait, i almost forgot”, he steps back and his fingers dive into the bag again, this time pulling out an orange cap, “i thought this might go well with the blue”.

[alittledoseofchaos]

Marvelous Miracles (Please Disregard the Ghosts)

Pt. 2

Prev. Next,

this crossover includes Miraculous, DC, Marvel, and DP. I'm not gonna list each individual crossover in the tags (I list Maribat and dp×dc because I know those can be difficult to block sometimes and it makes it easier for this fic to blocked). If you don't like these, the title (exactly) is a tag so this fic can be blocked that way too.

Alfred Pennyworth, despite what most people claim, does not know everything. He knows Bruce Wayne is Batman, his son, and a father. He knows he would give his life for his grandchildren. He knows that the world needs people like his family, even if he doesn't always like it. He knows that something in Paris, France is bad enough for Master Bruce's old friend Jared to suggest that one Marinette Dupain-Cheng move to Gotham of all places, but he can't for the life of him understand what it is.

His family is incredibly paranoid wary at heart, and for good reason too, so it comes as no shock that they began investigating the girl's life. What is surprising is that they can't find a single reason for Jared's concern. School reports show cases of bullying and victim blaming being ignored, which is mildly concerning, but not the life threatening problems Jared has promised them. Thorough research finds that her parents are busy, but hardworking and loving parents. In fact, after learning who the girl's parents were, Alfred messaged an old friend of his. Unfortunately, Gina Dupain, grandmother of the girl in question, provided more questions than answers when she mentioned something about evil butterflies. Everyone they talk to sounds just as mad with terror as the last.

Master Bruce, never one to leave a child in danger when he uses that brain of his, agreed to host the girl. His family is still at work trying to figure out the girl's backstory as he picks the dear up from the airport. He's early, and not as young as he used to be, so he waits for her in the plain van. He sat watching the camera feeds as the plane lands and begins unloading. His curiosity grows as miss Dupain-Cheng comes to a sudden halt as her foot lands in the building. From what he could tell, there is nothing around that would cause this abrupt stop, yet she is still standing there, frozen with one foot in the building. Displeasure crosses his aged face as someone behind the girl pushes her forward. She starts walking again, but her movements are stiffer than before.

Her blue-grey eyes shine with unease and dart between all the exits warily. Alfred climbs out of the car, intent on getting her out of there as soon as possible. He grabs a sign with 'Felicity Garcia' written on it, the agreed upon name that hopefully wouldn't draw anyone's attention. His brows furrow with determination.

Alfred Pennyworth does not know everything, but he knows that he'll do right by this girl.

🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇👻🕷🐞🦇

Marinette Dupain-Cheng knows many things. She knows that she would risk everything for her friends. She knows that she'll never get to be a normal girl with a normal life until Hawkmoth is taken down. She knows that something is wrong and that nobody has noticed. She knows that something is there, in the corner of her eye. She knows that someone is watching her. She knows there are many mutterings, but nobody is talking. She knows that Gotham is Crime Capital of the US, but this? This was something much darker. Something she is sorry to have seen, because now she is going to have to do something about it.

She feels another shiver dance down her spine and thanks the kwami that she wore such a thick grey sweater. She pushes aside thoughts of sinister intentions and scans the almost empty building. She hums lightly as she spots a sign with 'Felicity Garcia' written on it. The elderly man holding it is wearing a beige sweater and regular jeans, but something in her screams that he shouldn't be wearing anything other than a suit.

"HI! I'm Felicity Garcia! Are you here to pick me up?" She asks cheerfully. The gentleman's smokey grey eyes twinkle as he replies.

"Of course not, I'm much too frail for that." She smiles at the passcode. As they walk towards the doors, someone behind them spills their coffee. She turns to the woman that is now drenched in coffee. Without hesitation Marinette rushes over. She pulls out napkins and an anti-stain stick. She offers them up to the woman freely. Distrust fills the woman's eyes as she takes the offered objects. The woman nods in thank you as she walks away.

Marinette stares at the space where the woman had stood for a long while before she moves again. As she heads to the van, pity and determination mixes into a jumbled mess inside of her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng knows many things, like how she is going to do anything to help these people in a place too dark.

Next

[thatgordongirl]

Colour Symbolism: Patrick Butcher

Reminder this is highly speculative and it’s probably just me overanalysing clothes. Don’t take it too seriously if you don’t want to 

Other than being just a regular Scout Master uniform, it tells you what kind of person Pat is from the beginning. The persona is presented as positive and uplifting as he’s meant to be the supportive one of the group. What I think is a consistent thing with the ghosts is their clothing being somewhat deceptive, as in it displays a part of their character that masks a whole other part. Though this presentation of Pat isn’t necessarily false, it masks the fact that he can’t work through his own emotional damage. His persona of comforting others makes him seem more sure in himself than he is. 

Beige, his preferred kind of brown, is considered basic by most people, like Captain, he has a relatively consistent colour across all articles of clothing. It is somewhat structured and plain, which could relate to his routine and issues in his relationship with Carol. However, he is unaware of the issues it poses to others, and thus he embraces the use of beige, he embraces structure. Brown is commonly used to signify dullness and predictability. Brown is a neutral, which suits Pat’s mediation skills. It is a resilient colour, which applies more to others than it does to Pat. It takes someone else to make Pat recover, such as Robin. 

They are both dressed brown, where Robin is grounded, Pat is dependable. Brown is an isolated colour, which highlights how Pat feels about being separated from his family. He’s used to being in large groups. Brown’s natural compliment is blue, which is the same colour as the arrow in his neck. His death decidedly compliments his persona, a brown scout uniform and a blue arrow. Alright, let’s have a look at some of his life looks:

(Pardon the 80s quality and general badness) Pat wears some lovely looking sweaters around Christmas and in general. It’s not exactly an uncommon thing, but in relation to Pat it further emphasises his warm and inviting nature. It also highlights his organisation as his clothes are complimentary, reds, blues and whites. Pat’s role as a family man is very significant to him, and he presents himself as such. Pat’s more darker clothes are only seen at home, now he probably did wear them outside, but it would be interesting to consider he only showed his doubts or anxieties to his family in the form of darker tones. 

Now a little surprise, let’s have a look at Carol and Daley: 

Before Pat’s death, she wears rather dark colours which I assume to be green, brown or black. They not only match Pat, but signify their connection. Carol is spreading to agree with Pat on his structure, but her clothes are darker than his generally are, showing they have a significant difference. Considering her affair with Morris, it may have been her being somewhat unhappy. 

After Pat’s death, Carol is seen wearing lighter colours, particularly pink. She’s also less frustrated by Daley getting the camera out, probably because it reminds her of Pat. She’s most likely partially reconciled with herself by this point, four years on from Pat, and perhaps already moving forward with Morris. As such, she wears brighter and happier colours. 

(I’m assuming it’s Daley in the second one, but I could be wrong and I don’t have the episode downloaded) Daley’s outfit also compliment Pat’s, incorporating brown and yellow, whilst also having darker green and brown like Carol. He has both of their qualities, being able to be positive whilst also acknowledging the faults. Daley is well-rounded, Pat did a good job. 

After Pat dies, Daley begins to emulate him. Daley wears a sweater reminiscent of Pat’s, darker yet with colourful elements. It is clear he begins taking on more of his father’s traits after his passing, especially when he continues the Christmas tradition. It is no wonder he named his son Patrick. 

[myapathyhaspeaked]

ok so by my impression of the poster, muriel and gabriel both seem to be wearing clothes of a similar ilk to aziraphales after they get out of their first outfit, which for me probably means either of two things:

beige grandpa aesthetic is the angel uniform, or they feel this pull towards it or…

my preferred idea, they’re closet raiding aziraphale because they don’t quite know how normal people dress (ignoring the fact that aziraphale doesn’t really dress like a normal person), because it lets me imagine this:

aziraphale, helping muriel build an outfit: now, choose any tie you’d like; this is a skirt, it’s a bit like the uniform for the great war so maybe you’ll…

aziraphale, chucking that sweater at gabriel because he can probably live with that one getting a few cocoa stains on it: woe, ugly sweater be upon thee